


A Grave Mistake

by wolfmanjoe4182



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bullying, Haunting, Mistaken Identity, Murder, POV Multiple, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfmanjoe4182/pseuds/wolfmanjoe4182
Summary: A lost traveler meets a man with the most bizarre tale to tell.





	A Grave Mistake

I’m not sure how to begin this strange, weird, utterly bizarre story. If I had to, I would say the whole thing began that Wednesday evening. I was beginning the second week of a two-week vacation. I decided to really see the country, so I packed up my car and with a sense of whimsy, just let the road lead me. Now this method does have its disadvantages. It is very easy to lose your way and to get lost which is how I ended up trying to find my way on a twisty forest road, looking for a way to get back onto the main highway.   
Now this where the strangeness of my story begins, for while driving I suddenly found myself driving through a thick fog bank and soon after that my car, at that moment, decided to breakdown which was odd because I had it serviced before the trip. Now you would think I would try to use my phone and call for a tow truck or something like that and you are right. I would have tried if my phone had been working. Now this, on top of the car, made me a little nervous. Here I was broken car, broken phone, stranded on fog shrouded forest road at night. The way I see it I had two choices I could spend an uncomfortable night in my car or take the chance and leave my car, walk down the foggy road, and take the chance I would find a house and hope the inhabitants would allow me to use their phone. One choice would be safe, and the other choice would have its risk. Call me a risk taker. As I walked down the road, I wasn’t sure how long I walked. The fog made it difficult to see the moon, I don’t wear a wristwatch and with my phone not working I had no way to tell the time. After what seemed like a time of endless walking I came to the top of a big hill. Starting down I saw the faint outline of a house. A big house in the fog. I can tell you I was feeling a little relived as I walked down the hill. I thought I could also see the faint outline of a person whether male or female I couldn’t tell standing about 25 feet from the house, but as I got closer the person seemed to disappear into the fog. I could also see that the house was surrounded by a high stone wall with strange writing carved into it. I walked around it until I got to what looked like a gate. It looked like a thick solid wood door with the same odd writing carved into it. I was about to knock when a small door in the middle swung open and I found myself with a rifle pointed in my face. Now this to most people would be a real pee your pants moment luckily for me I was able to hold my composure.

“Who are you? What do you want?” asked a gruff voice from the other side.  
Taking a deep breath, I answered, “My car broke down a few miles back up the road and I was hoping I could use your phone to call for a tow truck.”

The man pulled back the rifle and then held up one of the old-fashioned kerosene lanterns. I could see that he was an older man he stared at me for a moment. “Sorry we have no phone for you to use,” he said.

Feeling a little put off I was about to walk away when I saw a small light appear in one the upstairs windows and I could hear a man call out, “Anderson who is it?”

“Just a man with car trouble Mr. Bishop.”

“Have him come inside.”

“Yes Sir.”

The gate opened, and the man motioned for me to come inside. Feeling I had no choice especially with him holding that rifle I walked inside. On the way up to the house I asked Anderson, “You two don’t get many visitors, do you?”  
“My employer likes his privacy.”

Now I could have replied with something sarcastic but decided not to instead I replied, “I saw somebody standing outside the wall as I was walking down, was that you?”

Anderson suddenly stopped walking and looked at me with a look of concern. “You saw someone. What did he look like?”

“I couldn’t really tell this fog is so thick. I couldn’t even tell the gender, just a vague outline.”

We reached the front door before he responded, “I believe that Mr. Bishop would like to hear what you have seen.”

With that he opened the front door and ushered me inside. The house was pitch black and I began to wonder if this whole area was experiencing some kind of peculiar electrical field effecting everything, but my theory would have to wait because coming down the stairs, holding an old kerosene lamp, I guess was Mr. Bishop. He was wearing a bathrobe and pajamas. His face was haggard, and his hair was gray. He looked like he hadn’t slept for a long time. It was hard to tell his age. “Hello, I’m Mr. Henry Bishop.” He said holding out his free hand. I grasped his hand and was about to say my name when he interrupted me. “Please do not tell me your name, it would do me no good to know it.”

All I could to say was, “Okay.”

“Let me guess you saw something in the fog and Anderson thought I would want to know about it.”

“Yes,” I said.

He chuckled to himself and walked over to the window, “I do not need you to tell me something strange is going on, this fog has already told me.”

I was unsure what to say, this was getting a little weird for me. I was debating of whether I should take my chances out in the creepy fog. Seeming to sense my thoughts Henry Bishop said, “I know this may seem peculiar to you, but if you will join me in the living room I will try to explain to you what is going on.”

I considered my options, but in the end my curiosity won out and I followed him to the living room. I found him sitting in one of two armchairs by a roaring fire in the fireplace I sat down in the other chair. “Now let me guess your means of transportation stopped working as soon as you entered the fog?”

“Yes,” I said.

“That is because 0f the fog nothing electrical will work as long as it and him are around.”

“Excuse me, him?”

“Yes, him. The one who brings in the fog, the one who haunts me every night, and the one who makes me look 30 years older than I’m actually am.” He took a deep breath, “I’m going to explain everything, all I ask of you is not to interrupt me and hold off all questions until it is all over understand?”

I nodded my head.

Henry Bishop’s Story  
My story begins when I was nine years old. My family was, well let’s just say very well off, but just because my parents had money didn’t me I was immune to the one thing most kids have to deal with a bully. Jason Myers, big for his age and with a real anger management, he made my life hell from the age of nine to the age of twelve. Now this was back in the day before all this anti-bullying campaigns that have popped up. Back then you were expected to deal with the bully yourself, to stand up to him with the thought that he would see you would not be a victim and then he would leave you alone. But I could never bring myself to do so and neither did the other kids he bullied, so for years he bullied us until the day his family moved out of state and let me tell you no one was happier than I that it happened. Now time-skip fifteen years later, I’m twenty-seven years old, a recent college graduate with a degree in business ready to take over the family business, but first my friends and I decided to have one last moment of fun before joining the business world. We decided on Las Vegas as the place to have our fun and for the first few days it was gambling in the casinos, hooking up with the many beautiful young ladies that frequent the town. Then one day it came crashing to a halt in the hotel casino. I saw him Jason Myers all grown up. Suddenly every moment of abuse he piled upon me came rushing back from the deepest part of my memory. I couldn’t believe it, the person who had tormented me was here in the very same hotel I was staying in. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. Fate had brought us together. Slowly a plan formed in my head and I quickly formulated it. Over the next several days I followed him around, always careful to avoid being seen. This was complicated by the fact that I had to think of excuses to tell my friends why I was not hanging out with them. I probably hurt a few feelings, but I was so determined to have revenge I just did not care. Finally, the day came when everything came to fruition. I knew his routine down to the last detail, so I waited until he was alone getting out of his car and then I attacked. The weapon I chose to use was a garrote, a long piece of wire with two handles attached. I wrapped it around his neck and pulled tight. I can barely describe the feeling of joy of the pure ecstasy I felt as I heard him gurgle for the air, watching as the wire cut into his flesh, and the satisfaction as he finally went limp, the life leaving his body. I let go of the garrote and he fell forward hitting the pavement. I stood over him feeling, I don’t mind saying exalted. After all these years I had finally had gotten my revenge. Now for the next part of my plan getting rid of all the evidence that I had been there. I carefully unwrapped the garrote from around his neck. I, of course, had the forethought to wear gloves and a mask so no there was no way to identify me just in case there was any security cameras around. I took everything that could connect me to the crime and destroyed it with fire in some deserted back alley miles from the crime. I thought it was finally over. In the morning I was proven wrong when I picked up the morning papers. They of course were full about the vicious murder. I read it with glee until I got the section where they gave the name of the victim, Charles Serling. I nearly lost my breakfast. I thought that this had to be a mistake. I was certain that I had killed Jason Myers, my childhood tormenter. There was no way I had killed some total stranger, but as the days passed by the news proved me wrong. I was wracked with guilt. I seriously considered turning myself in, but I was too much of a coward to do so. Finally, my vacation came to an end and I returned home to join my family in the running of our company. I thought that was the end of it until one night a few days later. I was lying in bed trying to get some sleep when I noticed something strange, something that took me several moments to notice what it was. I looked at my digital alarm clock and saw that it was off. At first, I thought it had some how gotten unplugged, but I checked the outlet and it was still plugged in, so I figured that it had stopped working. The next thing I did was to check my cellphone for the time, but that wasn’t working either. Finally, I looked out my window and could see a thick layer of fog surrounding my house which was odd because the weather wasn’t the right type for fog. Suddenly, I felt like I was being strangled. I couldn’t see anybody in the room with me. It was like some unseen pair of hands was wrapped around my throat and then all at once it was over. Whatever it was let me go. I fell to the floor gasping for breath. In the corner of my eye I could see that my alarm clock had come back on blinking twelve o’ clock. What had happened to me? It happened again the next night and the night after that. Always at the same time, no matter what room I was in, but from each attack I learned the fact that whenever the strange fog rolled in anything in my house that ran on electricity stopped working and the fact that the hands that wrapped around my throat, even though I couldn’t see them, felt human. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I moved out of my house and into a motel. I also bought a lamp and a radio once I got to the motel I plugged them in just in case whatever it was had followed me. I stayed up all night watching the lamp and listening to the radio waiting for them to stop and when they finally did so I jumped and rushed into the bathroom and locked the door. I really don’t know why I did this. I guess lack of sleep made me act so irrationally, as if whatever it was could be stopped by a locked door. I was proven right when I felt those same hands wrap around my throat. After that night I decided enough was enough, I needed to find some answers. I began researching, looking up everything I could find on the supernatural, the paranormal. I talk to any expert I could find, every psychic, seer, palm reader, and holy man I could find. My family and friends became very concerned for me. They thought I was throwing my money away on a foolish endeavor. Maybe I should have told them what was happening to me, but I was hesitant. If they didn’t believe me, I could have ended up in the insane asylum or worse. Whatever was attacking me could attack them, so I decided the best thing to do was to drive everyone I cared about away. After that I isolated myself to continue my research. Finally, the day came. I found someone who could help me. A very old woman who had a reputation as some kind of psychic. She came over to my house. After an hour of walking around the house and examining me she told me what I didn’t want to hear. Everything that had been happening to me could be traced back to that man I had killed back in Vegas. The psychic explained it to me, telling me because he had died so violently and that I had gotten away with it that he was now seeking revenge against me. I wondered if I confessed to the police would that stop him. The psychic didn’t think so. The spirit was so angry that he would never stop, but then she told me that if I truly believed then I could say magic spells. These I could purchase and for a temporary amount of time, could protect me from him, but I would need to greatly reduce the number of people around me. I took all the money I had, purchased the spell, built this house, and hired Anderson. I still had enough left over to make sure I can spend the rest of my life in relative comfort.

“That was three years ago.”

I sat there stunned. A part of me wanted to write off his story as the mad ravings of a disturbed mind, but I couldn’t just ignore all the strange things that I had seen and experience. “So, this fog and that strange figure I saw in the fog?”

“Are manifestations of Charles Serling.”

“So that strange writing carved into the wall is the spell to keep him out.”

“Yes, but it is wearing off and soon it will be ineffective.”

“How can you tell?”

He got up and walked over to the window and gesture for me to look out it. “See the fog, this is the first time in three years it has shown up. I can only imagine how angry Charles Serling is after all these years unable to get a hold of me.”

“Couldn’t you just reapply the spell?”

“No, it was only good for one use. After it ends I will have no defense against him.”

“May I ask why you are telling me all this?”

“I’m not really sure. Maybe you remind me a little of myself before all this happened, so young and carefree, or it could be that the pressure finally drove me insane and I would have told my story to anybody.”

“So basically, you have no idea why you told me any of this.”

“That’s about right.” 

We both chuckled. “Man, it feels good to laugh, pretty soon I don’t think I’ll have any reason to.”

“Couldn’t you just find a new spell of protection.”

“No, one of the conditions for this spell to work was that after it was cast I could never leave my property.”

“So, you have been stuck here for three years?”  
“Yes, but since the spell only effects the owner of the property I send Anderson out to shop and with the internet I can take care of my other needs.” With that Henry Bishop once again turned towards the window, gazing out it, looking at the fog. “The sun will be up soon, the fog will be gone, and you will be able to restart your vehicle and leave this cursed place.” He then turned to look at me. “Before you leave may I ask you a favor?”

“What is it?”

“Remember my story.”

“What?”

“You’re the first person I’ve told my story to. Not even Anderson knows it, he thinks I’m just eccentric crackpot.”

“So, I’m the only person who knows everything: the childhood bully, the plan for revenge, the killing of the wrong person, the vengeful spirit, and the spell that temporarily keeps you safe?”

“Yes, that’s about it.”

I was stunned. He was trusting me with a lot of information. “You do realize I can go to the police and tell them what you told me about the murder.”

“You could do that, and do you realize that I could just kill you.”

I immediately tensed up and waited for him to do something but in the end, he just laughed. “Oh, relax. I’m not going to harm you, tell the police if you want for all the good it will do you. Don’t forget I maybe dead before you can even tell them.”

“So, what now?”

“Now? He looked back out the window. “Now the sun is rising, and the fog is dissipating. If you start walking now it will be gone by the time you reach your vehicle.” With that he walked over and offered me his hand I took it and we shook. “Goodbye and remember everything I told you.”

“I’ll try.”

After that I left Henry Bishop’s house. Once outside I didn’t see Anderson anywhere. I figured he must have gone to bed. I walked through the gate and then back to my car.

That was a little over two years ago and part of me wonders as I type this whatever became of Henry Bishop. Is he dead and if he is still alive is he still being tormented by the vengeful spirit of Charles Serling. Maybe one day when I gather up enough courage I will go back there and find out.

The End


End file.
